


Going Through the Motions

by Raspberry_Blond



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Holodecks/Holosuites, M/M, post-OMB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Blond/pseuds/Raspberry_Blond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy games in the holosuite don't go exactly as planned. Post-OMB romp</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Through the Motions

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly migrating stories I wrote under various LJ pseuds over here. Not sure if I ever posted this one, though.

_Most distressing. I really must speak with the good doctor about this imagination of his!_  
  
So thought Elim Garak, top agent of the Offensive Battle Strike Insurgency Defense Intelligence Annihilation Network – O.B.S.I.D.I.A.N. for short – as he slammed the broad of his palm into the bridge of his attacker's nose. As in previous attempts to subdue the steel-toothed henchman aptly named "Nibbles," this, too, ended in failure. The man soon had Garak by the throat, squeezing with all his might as his mouth stretched in a parody of a grin.  
  
 _Yes, I do have to have a talk with that young man at the earliest opportunity -_  
  
Garak grappled ineffectively with the hands around his neck, unable to prevent being pressed into the bed of his sleeping car. It would have to be a very formidable Terran indeed who had the strength to choke the life out of a Cardassian, and as Garak struggled against the weight of the big man, he wondered if Nibbles' seemingly enhanced strength was a side result of those carcinogenic twigs smoked by many people of Earth during this time period. Certainly no one would want to ingest such a poison unless it resulted in enhanced abilities of some sort. Garak made a note to ask Julian about it later – provided, of course, he was still able to breathe.  
  
There was a small sound as the doors to the adjoining car opened, and Garak reacted with a mixture of relief and concern the startled gasp of the Doc – er, Julian Bashir, Secret Agent. In moments, Nibbles' attention and rage were diverted to this new visitor, and Garak was able to sit up just in time to see Julian and the murdering thug stumble backward into Bashir's sleeping compartment.  
  
Rubbing his sore neck ridges, Garak watched the brawl taking place just meters away with wary interest. There were several instances in which Nibbles appeared to be getting the best of Julian, and Garak ached to sail in and try that lovely skull-cracking trick he'd perfected on Tarsus V.   
  
He forced himself to stay on the edges of the fray, however, knowing that as this was the doctor's fantasy, he would chafe at any unnecessary interference. Still, it seemed an uncomfortably long time before Julian was able to escape from Nibbles' grip, but once he did, he made the most of his freedom.  
  
With a few stunning, neatly choreographed kicks, Bashir sent the large man crashing through the window. Garak shuddered in spite of himself – this train on which he and the doctor were currently traveling was going at quite a high rate of speed; it would seem unlikely that Nibbles would have a landing conducive to sustaining life.  
  
"Garak!"   
  
Julian was suddenly at his side, practiced fingers examining the ridged neck.

"Are you all right? You have a bit of bruising here."  
  
"I'll live, I believe." Garak cleared his throat slightly and tried to not notice that Julian, like himself, was dressed for bed - except the doctor's idea of proper sleeping attire consisted solely of a pair of pajama bottoms, a thin shirt, and a beautifully tousled head.  
  
"You cut it a bit close coming to my aid, my dear doctor. Was that supposed to be one of your `dramatic' entrances?"  
  
"No." Julian continued his examination, but the serious face was accented by a deep blush. "I - well, I was waiting for the scream."  
  
"The scream? I wasn't aware that Mr. Nibbles was capable of speech."  
  
Julian ducked his head. "I meant I was waiting for  _you_  to scream." He managed a thin smile. "I am usually in this scenario with Colonel Komananov. When she screams, I know that she has discovered Nibbles hiding in the wardrobe. I was listening, and it wasn't until I heard a strange thumping sound that I remembered that I was partnering with an O.B.S.I.D.I.A.N. agent, not a KGB operative."  
  
"Ah. So noted. By the way, that ‘thumping sound' would have been my head hitting the wardrobe door when Mr. Nibbles made his entrance." Garak gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "Apparently, though the décor in this time period is just as horrid as in our last adventure, the furnishings are quite sturdy indeed."  
  
"I am so sorry, Garak. I suppose it will take me some time to readjust to the program's new settings. True, the missions are still the same, but with all the main characters purged, it will take some getting used to."  
  
All Garak's residual irritation fled at the contrite look on Julian's face, and he put a reassuring hand on the thin shoulder.

"Doctor – ah – _Julian_ , I do understand. There was no harm done, truly. Are  _you_  all right?"  
  
"Perfectly. Though . . ." Julian cast a pointed glance at his room, which was now in disarray and littered with shattered glass. "I  _am_  a little chilly now."  
  
"Yes, it is uncomfortably cold in here." Garak shivered in the flimsy nightshirt he wore. This 'polyester' fabric that seemed so prevalent in the clothing of this era was uncomfortably itchy and didn't hold warmth well, at all.  
  
"Perhaps after you restore the window, you will tell me just why you elected to keep this program but delete all of the true characters. I would have thought that after our uncomfortable visit with Dr. Noah, you'd want to see the characters as they truly were meant to -"  
  
Garak blinked and found himself looking into too-wide eyes. "What is it?"  
  
"Restore the window?" Julian glanced at the open doorway, then back at Garak. "You want me to restore the window in my cabin? Why?"  
  
"I'm not sure how you plan to sleep in a room with a broken window, unless you have something hidden in your pajamas that would assist you."

Garak's genial grin faded a bit under Julian's continued stare.

"We are in the midst of one of your Terran winters, are we not? And it is cold as the deepest hells in that room."  
  
Garak gazed thoughtfully at his young friend. They had been playing this holosuite spy game for nearly five hours, and in that time, Garak thought on a few instances in which the doctor had given him that same look. It always seemed to appear after an instance in which Garak sensed he was not responding to the situation as Julian expected.  
  
"Is there a purpose to the window's being shattered?" Garak tugged at the collar of his nightshirt, vexed beyond words at the strange flap of fabric sewn into the back of the shirt that was rubbing against his neck. "Does it alert one of our 'contacts' that we have arrived safely on this train?"  
  
"Er ... no. Nothing of that sort." The blush returned. "It . . . ahm . . . the broken window simply forces me to seek refuge in the colonel's room. In her bed, actually. It's to generate body heat, you know, to ward off the cold."  
  
"How efficient." The Cardassian felt a comforting warmth spreading just below his belly at the thought of Julian's lithe, golden body curled up against his. After a moment, Garak jettisoned the daydream and forced himself back to reality. The doctor would likely not find the unfamiliar texture of a Cardassian – and a male at that – as alluring or arousing as that of his departed Russian companion.  
  
But Garak wondered if he'd not brought up the window, would Julian have mentioned it at all. The doctor's reaction and stammering explanation were quite odd, indeed. It was almost as if he were expecting – or almost hoping – to continue the scenario in normal form by seeking asylum in his bed.

And suddenly, just as the daydreams were coming back with a vivid clarity, Garak registered movement in his periphery.  
  
"Julian, where are you going?"  
  
"Back to my room. I think that under the, ah, circumstances, the window should be repaired." Julian was halfway across the floor. "It will be a long trip and I suppose we both should get some sleep. We'll need to be sharp for our meeting with Admiral Seaworthy. We'll have quite a few bullets to dodge on his yacht. Literally."  
  
The doctor pushed open the thin wall connecting the two cabins, and cold air rushed in immediately, causing Garak's scales to ache a bit.   
  
"Goodnight, Garak. We reach Naples in the morning. Maybe you'd like breakfast –"  
  
"No, wait."   
  
Garak got to his feet, and almost before he had time to register the intent of his own actions, he'd grabbed Julian's arm and pulled him back into the warmth of his room. 

"Don't. Perhaps fixing the window would not be a good idea after all."  
  
He smiled at Julian's startled expression. "Think about it: the computer is programmed to respond to certain actions and events, correct? That is how it knows to advance us in our mission."  
  
"Well, yes. That's right."  
  
"Then it is possible that if you make the window whole again, the computer might believe that we have somehow cycled back to the start of this scenario." Garak looked grim. "It might then reset this entire sequence."  
  
Julian's brow creased for a moment, and then smoothed out as he followed Garak's line of thought.

"Which might mean the computer would restore Nibbles to the scenario! Yes, that is a distinct possibility. The program moves forward after the computer registers the broken glass. It then knows to keep Nibbles at bay until our arrival in Naples."  
  
"I'd had the feeling we hadn't seen the last of that man." Garak tried not to sigh. "Is he an android of some sort? You buried him under tons of rubble in Cairo, you ran him over with that ridiculous car in Marrakesh, you've just sent him tumbling through a window on a speeding train -"  
  
"He's resilient, yes, but rather stupid. We'll always be able to defeat him. Surely you've caught on to that."  
  
"Yes, well, in any event, I've had quite enough of him for the moment, and I would like to have some rest." Garak gestured toward the bed. "So, if you please . . ."  
  
"Garak," Julian began slowly, his gaze darting to the bed, "you're certain about this?"  
  
"My O.B.S.I.D.I.A.N. training has prepared me well for these sorts of situations. Completing this mission is of utmost importance, so we'd best get comfortable."

Garak shivered as chilly air began seeping under the thin partition that separated the two rooms. "And I do believe I'd benefit as much from your presence as you would from mine."

"Agreed. All right then."   
  
With no further hesitation, Julian launched himself onto the bed and snuggled beneath the blankets. Making himself quite at home in moments, he looked up at Garak with a dazzling grin.   
  
"Well? Aren't you going to join me?"  
  
The jolt of sensation occasioned by those words nearly sent Garak off his feet. For a decade or more, he'd not had call to share his bed with anyone, and now he was being given the chance to share quarters with the sole occupant of his sexual desires.  
  
Garak wavered at the side of the bed, suddenly rethinking his decision. Perhaps, all things considered, this was not the wisest choice of action. At Julian's questioning look, however, Garak decided he was being silly. He and the doctor were enjoying a holosuite fantasy . . . simply playing roles. Nothing to be concerned about at all.  
  
Quietly, Garak extinguished the lights and slid in between the covers. Sighing, he let his eyes close, turning away from the doctor to find a comfortable position on his side.  
  
"This is nice, wouldn't you say, Garak?"  
  
"Yes. Very. Quite an interesting way to travel. Much more stylish than your Terran aeroplanes."  
  
"Hmm. I know several people who would disagree with you. Miles, for one." The doctor's voice was threaded with a drowsy cadence. "I do love trains, though. I wish Earth would restore more of the historical railroad tracks. Most of them were ripped apart to make way for mass-transporter centers and hover-train stations. A shame really . . ."  
  
Julian's voice faded into silence. In the distance, a faint horn blared and the train rocked on its wheels as it hurtled along the tracks. Garak grew to enjoy the side-sweeping motion and he gradually relaxed, burrowing further into the coverlets.  
  
"Garak?"  
  
Garak's eyelids gradually lifted. He hadn’t realized he’d been dozing. "Yes?"  
  
"Why are you at the edge of the bed? That can't be very comfortable."  
  
"I don't wish to crowd you, Doc – ah, Julian. I'm fine."  
  
"You're nearly off the bed! If the train stops suddenly, you'll be on the floor. Move in a bit, toward the middle."  
  
After a hesitation, Garak edged toward the subtle heat emanating from his companion.

"Hm, that is a little better. You still have room?"

"Plenty. You could get a bit closer if you liked."  
  
Garak blinked. He couldn't be sure, but that sounded very much like an invitation as opposed to suggestion.   
  
"I believe this is sufficient, thank you. You're sure you are comfortable?"  
  
"Yes." The doctor didn't sound very convincing. "And you're warm enough?"  
  
"Yes." Garak detected the same bland note in his own voice and struggled to suppress a shiver.

"Well. Good night, Julian."

"Good night."  
  
Garak again turned on his side and stared into the darkness for awhile, dangling on the edge of slumber. Technology  _was_  a marvelous thing. The holosuites' computer system was able to re-create, in every detail, something as complex as a late-20th Century Terran locomotive and make it appear as if this vehicle were traveling at speeds well above average for the day. In no time at all, it would be "morning" and he and the doctor would have arrived at their destination.  
  
Garak found himself rather eager to see the Old Earth city of Naples. Julian had certainly been enthusiastic when they'd received their assignment from the shadowy organization Julian referred to as "the base." But then, Garak noticed that Julian was generally enthusiastic about the exotic locales they'd visited.  
  
During this mission alone, to say nothing of the three adventures they'd had since their precarious brush with the megalomaniacal “Dr. Noah,” he and the doctor literally had traveled the world together within the confines of the holosuite chambers. It was, quite simply, a marvel.   
  
His thoughts slipped into dormancy as the doctor stirred restlessly at his side.  
  
"Garak, are you still awake?"  
  
"I'm having a bit of trouble dropping off." Garak wondered if his presence was affecting Julian adversely. "I'm afraid I'm not used to attempting to sleep in a moving metal box."  
  
"But I thought your O.B.S.I.D.I.A.N. training prepared you for  _every_  possibility."

After a soft chuckle, Garak felt the bed shift, and suddenly the doctor's voice was at his back.

"Would you like to go over the mission specifications again?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."   
  
And indeed, it would not. The task seemed quite simple: They were to infiltrate the yacht of the eccentric (and, Garak had noticed, all of the villains in Julian's secret agent scenarios were exceedingly eccentric – and wealthy) Admiral Yohan Seaworthy and thwart his plans to launch a missile that would cause a chain of events leading to another Ice Age on Earth.  
  
Garak allowed himself a small smile. Of course they would succeed in their mission – Julian Bashir, Secret Agent, had not failed once, not even when the life of Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer, had hung in the balance. Garak wondered why Julian persisted in this particular fantasy. Yes, the landscapes were enticing, the women beautiful, the gadgets amazing in a certain hollow, ludicrous manner, but the outcome was always the same. He could not understand how a man like Julian Bashir, who seemed to thrive on the ever-changing challenge and discovery that went hand-in-hand with his profession, could be so fascinated by a game that could not be lost.  
  
"Doc – Julian, since sleep seems to be eluding us for the moment, perhaps we might discuss something about which I have been curious."  
  
Garak turned and was startled to see the doctor's face so near to his. He'd not known Julian had moved so close. After a minute in which he subtly made space between them, he propped himself up on an arm.

"Why did you delete so many of the characters from the databases of this program?"

Even in the darkness, Garak could discern the bent toward dissimulation in Julian’s eyes, and he found himself a bit disappointed. He supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised that the doctor's first impulse would be to lie, but Garak had hoped that by now that Julian would have improved his ability to cloak his emotions.  
  
"I thought that it'd be just as well to start fresh. I've gone through all the scenarios, you know," Julian said softly. "I suppose I could have just paid Quark or Rom to give me a new program threshold, but deleting the main characters accomplished the same thing – and Miles did it for free."  
  
"I see. So it has nothing to do at all with our unfortunate experience of three weeks ago?"  
  
There was a pause. "Well, to be quite honest, I suppose that played into it a bit, too. I just don't believe I'd have the same enjoyment of the game with the original characters. I can't look at Dr. Noah as I conceived him without seeing Captain Sisko's face - or that gun he pointed at me."  
  
"Yes, that  _was_  a rather uncomfortable moment." Garak studied him with shrewd eyes. "You acquitted yourself quite nicely, however."  
  
"By destroying the world. I hardly call that a job well done."  
  
"Ah, well, there is an old Order saying that I think would have been very apropos to the situation in which we found ourselves." Garak's tone was dry. "'Better them than us.'"  
  
Julian's answering laughter gave way to a puzzled frown.

"Did you just hear something?"

Garak sat up a little and listened intently, straining to hear above the grinding of the train's wheels.

"I don't believe so, but you do recall what I mentioned about Cardassian hearing not being as acute as a Human's."

"Yes, yes, I remember." Julian's head swiveled in the darkness. "Hm. That's strange. A few seconds ago, I could have sworn I heard footsteps."  
  
"Footsteps? Who would be walking about at this hour?" Garak was quiet for a moment. "Perhaps that delightful young woman with whom you were chatting earlier? Charming girl, though I do admit I was a touch confused by her offer to 'read your palm,' especially as she seemed to be guiding your hand toward her -"  
  
The partition dividing the two cabins flew open and a man in dark clothing burst in, brandishing a gun. Garak recovered from his shock at the intrusion a bit before the doctor did, and he noticed that their visitor seemed to hesitate at the door, obviously stunned to see the two of them in bed together.  
  
Garak took advantage of the small pause to leap at the man and drive him headfirst into the wall. The man's head made a satisfying crack against the surface and he went to the floor in a heap. Garak divested the stranger of his firearm before bending to check his pulse, though he knew there was no real need. The sound of a neck snapping was not so different between Terrans and Cardassians, after all.  
  
"Well! That was certainly ... invigorating." Garak rose and dusted himself off. "I hardly feel cold at all now."   
  
He turned to look at the doctor. "Perhaps we should escort this gentleman out through Mr. Nibbles' exit route?"  
  
Still looking a bit shaken, Julian flipped on a lamp and joined Garak near the fallen intruder.

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

"No? Was I supposed to let you dispose of him?" Garak looked down at the man. "My apologies, but I thought that since you did so much of the work earlier -"  
  
"No, you don't understand. This wasn't  _supposed_  to happen. Nibbles is the only villain we are supposed to encounter during the train ride."

Julian nudged the man over with his foot and squatted next to the body. "I don't even know  _who_  this person is. I don't recognize him from this scenario or any of the others."

"Well, perhaps he is a new arrival. Surely Admiral Seaworthy has the means to have more than one cold-hearted assassin on his staff."

Garak stooped and picked the man up, throwing him over his shoulder like a bolt of Thurasian silk.

"If you'll excuse me a moment?"

Garak carried his burden across the room, through the half-open partition and into Julian's abandoned cabin, which was by now bitterly cold. Setting his teeth against the chill, he dragged the man to the broken window and pushed him out into the wintry darkness. Almost as an afterthought, Garak tossed the man's gun out, as well.  
  
"There. Our unexpected visitor is safely stowed." Garak reentered the warmer room and closed the adjoining door quickly. "The townspeople may get an unpleasant shock when thaw comes, but ..."   
  
He trailed off at Julian's stricken expression. "You seem troubled."  
  
"I  _am_  troubled. I don't understand how that could have happened." Julian's forehead was wrinkled in thought. "This is one of my favorite adventures. There  _is_  no second assassin on the train. Once Nibbles is taken care of, the rest of the ride is supposed to be peaceful."  
  
"Ah, but it  _is_  a different adventure now. Perhaps in modifying your program, Mr. O'Brien added a few surprises of his own."  
  
"Maybe, but why this, and why here?" Julian glanced around. "Everything else has been exactly as it always was. The fight in Marrakesh, the duel in Lausanne - everything. If Miles had changed the program specs to allow for a second attack, then we would have seen that man before now. We always see the assassins at least once before they make their move. That's how we are able to discern that they  _are_  after us."  
  
"Perhaps we missed this man along the way. It was quite crowded in many of the places we’ve stopped before now."

Garak gave an offhanded shrug and climbed back into the bed. "At any rate, since our uninvited guest is now resting comfortably - so to speak - it seems only fair that we do the same."

Julian, taking the hint, nevertheless looked around the cabin once more before slipping back beneath the bedcovers.

"I suppose you're right. Sorry for the interruption."

"Think nothing of it."

Garak waited until Julian had made himself comfortable before turning out the light.

"Again - good night, Mr. Bashir."

"Good night then, Garak."  
  
There was silence for a moment, and Garak smiled up at the ceiling, waiting for Julian to speak again. Cardassian hearing might not be as fine-tuned as a Human's, but at such close range, even the greenest Order operative could tell when his quarry was feigning sleep - or death - by his pattern of breathing. The silence lengthened, though Garak knew that Julian was no closer to slumber than he had been minutes before.

"There!"

Garak was startled by Julian's sudden shout. The doctor was sitting upright in bed and kicking away the blankets.

"There it is again! More footsteps!"

"I don't hear -"   
  
But in the next second, Garak _did_ hear a heavy tread on the other side of the partition and a sound like a vole being skinned alive. Garak was up and ready to pounce when the door slid open to reveal a reedy man with quite a large firearm. This one seemed less inclined to gawk than had the previous thug, and Garak lunged for the man just as he brought up his gun.  
  
"Computer, freeze program!"  
  
Garak stopped short, blinking at the "assailant," who now was frozen in a somewhat uncomfortable-looking position.  
  
"Julian, what are you doing? I very nearly had him."  
  
"Something's wrong," Julian muttered, beginning to pace the room. "We've not seen  _that_  man before either. I'm telling you, Garak, _none_  of this should be happening. I have done this scene dozens of times -"  
  
"Dozens?" Garak's eye ridges lifted minutely. "I suppose I should thank you for fattening Quark's pockets enough for him to patronize my shop for those ridiculous outfits of his."  
  
"- and there's never been any second assassin, much less a third one." Julian paced to the cabin's large picture window and peered out. "I fight Nibbles. He goes out the window of my cabin. I come back in here to check to see if Ana is all right. We banter for a moment. I realize that sleeping in my cabin would be useless. Ana invites me to stay in hers. I accept, and ..."  
  
Garak was only half-listening, having become engrossed in studying the new thug's style of dress and the unfortunate cut of the man's pants, but Julian's gasp drew his attention.

When he looked up, he was slightly alarmed at the look in the young man's eyes.

"What is it? What's gone wrong?"  
  
Julian stood staring for a minute, his eyes swinging from Garak's face to the bed and back again. His mouth fell open slightly and he slumped against the window with a low moan.  
  
"Oh  _no_."  
  
"What?" Garak studied the reddening face with growing alarm. "Doctor what is it?"  
  
Julian growled a curse so savage it brought heat to Garak's cheeks.

"It – we – Garak, we need to leave  _now_. I do need to have a talk with Miles about reconfiguring this mission -"

"Why? Are we in some sort of danger?"   
  
"Well, no. Not exactly." Julian seemed unable to meet his eyes suddenly. "It's just ... this isn't going to work as I'd envisioned it."  
  
Garak was utterly confused. Other than the charming and witty repartee, the inordinate amount of clothing changes, and the flirtation with various women of varying ethnicities and allegiances, the point of this whole "Terran spy fantasy" was to foil the criminal mastermind and his legions of armed strongmen. That Julian showed such agitation over the appearance of one or two armed, but otherwise commonplace men – who, additionally, had regular teeth, unlike Nibbles – made absolutely no sense.  
  
"Well, perhaps we can skip ahead a bit to Naples itself? We're expecting quite a bit of company there, true?"  
  
"That won't work either, Garak." Julian shook his head. "When I had this program created, I specifically requested a subroutine that would prevent any non-linear progression. When I stop the program, I can pick up where it left off, but I can't advance the scenario until I've completed each scene. It just seemed beside the point - I am playing at being a secret agent. What would be the challenge in being able to go to any part of the mission that I wished? I'd simply be able to skip all the uncomfortable stages and go straight to the good parts - or the final showdown with the main villain."  
  
"I see. So I suppose we just must fight our way out of it." Garak sized up the still-frozen intruder. "A bit tiresome, but you  _did_  caution me to expect the unexpected."  
  
"You don't understand ... we  _can't_  fight our way out of it. You killed the first intruder after Nibbles, and what happened? _He_ barged in." Julian gestured angrily at the motionless thug. "And if you were to get rid of  _him_ , if my theory’s correct, there’d be another to come around afterward."  
  
Garak considered a moment. "Perhaps you’re right, but there is only one way to find out. Computer - resume program."  
  
The thug came to life in an instant, drawing his gun, and gaping in astonishment at the now-empty bed. Garak caught him as he turned around with a savage chop to his neck. He crumpled immediately, his gun clattering along after him. Without glancing at Bashir, Garak heaved the man up and he, too, was soon lost in the snow as the train hurtled along in the snowy weather.   
  
Returning to his room and shutting the partition, Garak took a seat on the bed and motioned Julian over.

"Now, we wait." 

They sat tensely side by side. Garak stared pointedly at the thin door, eyes narrowed. He could feel the doctor's trepidation; his whole body was wound in on itself like an overwrought coil, and Garak could discern his hands clenching and unclenching the bedcovers.  
  
His head snapped up suddenly, and in a second, Garak's did, as well. The partition flew open and two large, snarling men stood by with their firearms already cocked and at the ready.  
  
"Computer, freeze program."

Garak turned to Julian after he'd uttered the terse command. "Julian, how did you know what would happen? What is going on here?"

"I ... it’s something I didn't account for." Julian sprang from the bed. "We need to stop here, Garak. We'll get no further. And the more we fight them, possibly the more will be generated - faster and more cunning than those that came before. I truly  _am_  sorry about this. I never even considered ..."

He stopped and looked away again. "Perhaps we can pick this up in a week or two?"

"I'm truly at a loss." Garak stood up and faced down the young Human with a cold stare. "You tell me to prepare for the mission of  _all_ missions. You extol the virtues of this Naples, you tell me that it is unlike any mission we've heretofore experienced - with the exception of the unpleasantness of a few weeks ago. And you simply want to end it?"

"Garak, we will  _not_  be able to go any farther."  
  
"Yes, apparently not, but  _why_  not? Why are we suddenly being inundated with Admiral Seaworthy's minions when it seemed that we'd put many of our troubles behind us - specifically, Mr. Nibbles? How do you know it's not simply a glitch in the program?"  
  
"It isn't. Well ... it  _is_ , but not in the way you might think. It's something that cannot be helped here."  
  
"Yes, but how do you  _know_?" Garak studied the doctor's bent head. "Julian?"  
  
Julian glanced up quickly. "Garak, I am sorry. I was looking forward to this, as well, but -"  
  
"But, you're simply going to leave it here with no explanation?"   
  
Garak waited for the confirming little shrug and moue of consternation from the doctor that invariably accompanied any incisive insight on his part. Ah, yes, and there they were. He straightened, and pulled at the damnable nightshirt with its Gul-forsaken tag and turned toward what he assumed was the exit.   
  
"Computer, end program -"  
  
"Computer, belay that order." Julian's hand fell heavily on his shoulder. "Garak, I hope you're not angry with me -"  
  
"Angry? I'm nothing of the sort." Garak brought out the sort of bland smile that he knew particularly exasperated the doctor. "It's  _your_ fantasy, after all, and you, of course, have final say on how it begins - or ends. I'm not entirely sure being suddenly yanked away from this fascinating experience was quite worth my shutting down my shop for this excursion - at your insistence - and losing a full day's custom, not to mention being the favorite target of a man whose teeth appear as if they could be mined for deuterium. But I suppose such disappointments were common for a secret agent of this era."   
  
He turned away again, but not before noticing the abashed look in Julian’s eyes. A tendril of hope started to unfurl in his chest. It was midweek, according to the Federation calendar, and the time for ship and shuttle departures. Business was notoriously slow during that period, but Garak reckoned that what the doctor didn't know wouldn't hurt him.  
  
"Garak, I - I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't consider that you'd put your business on hold for this. You are owed an explanation."   
  
Julian sat down heavily on the bed, mindless, it seemed, of the two armed men suspended in action just a few feet away.   
  
"I guessed what was going on with the unexpected henchmen because of my previous forays in this scenario. I always knew when I was on a wrong track, you see, when something unexpected happened. For example, to advance to the next stage here, Nibbles  _had_  to be disposed of through the window. In my first tries at this adventure, I attempted everything - from garroting him to shooting him with his own gun. Each time I thought I'd successfully bested him, he'd return stronger than ever and I never moved forward in the story - until I happened to accidentally send him crashing through the window one time. And then the adventure continued. The mission won't advance unless everything is done as the computer has programmed it to happen. The trick of it in most cases is discovering  _what_  the computer has configured."   
  
"Doctor, forgive me, but what, really, is the enjoyment of that? I have been puzzling on your love of this game for quite some time now, and this information has me even more perplexed," Garak said. "If you know exactly  _how_  to vanquish your opponents, where is the challenge?"  
  
"Well, it's not always  _exactly_  the same. There are always some changes - even if it's just what wine I have with Admiral Seaworthy's secretary before she is discovered helping me and thrown out of that hot air balloon. But certain conditions always must be met, and when they are not, nothing moves forward." The doctor sighed. "That is why I know that fighting these men won't do any good. We're not supposed to. They aren't supposed to be here."  
  
"No? Then where are they supposed to be?"   
  
Julian glanced over at the men.

"They aren't supposed to be anywhere. I'm supposed to be ...  _we're_  supposed to be ... I mean ..." Bashir swallowed hard. "At this point in the mission - when I'm with Colonel Komananov - she and I are ..."

"Are ...?"   
  
Garak tilted his head, waiting. Julian cast an anguished look at him before stealing a glance back at the bed and its rumpled bedcovers.

It was then that Garak understood. He realized his epiphany must have shown in his face as Julian flushed a painful, dark red.

"Ah."  
  
Julian squeezed his eyes shut, his expression the picture of agonized mortification.   
  
Garak nodded thoughtfully. "Computer, erase intruders and suspend program."   
  
He saw one of Julian's eyes crack open briefly, but the Starfleet doctor said nothing and soon let his head drop again. When the two new thugs vanished, Garak took a seat next to Julian on the bed.   
  
In truth, this was one of those moments that the peculiarities of the Terran species completely dumbfounded him. Surely, Garak thought wearily, Julian had to know that the holosuites had been constructed and designed, in large part, as a tool to sate sexual fantasies? There was nothing odd or shameful about it. It was how Quark had made much of his money during the Occupation - not at dabo or serving any of his silly, watered-down excuses for alcohol, but at taking the latinum of lonely Cardassian soldiers who did not have the influence or the standing to import Bajoran comfort women to satisfy their lusts. It wasn't until Starfleet came along that the holosuites were used for  _other_  recreational purposes, in fact.   
  
Garak did not understand Humans' odd sense of embarrassment when it came to their sexual behaviors. True, an aroused Cardassian wouldn't just stroll around displaying his or her engorged neck ridges to just anyone, but general discussions that centered on the usage of reproductive organs were not treated as the humiliating subjects that Terrans seemed to consider them.  
  
"So, let me see if I have this correctly," said Garak lightly. "Your supposition is that the computer will continue to generate new foes for you to battle because you are not in the midst of making love to Colonel Komananov?"  
  
A low, strangled groan emanated from the huddled figure next to him.  
  
"Was that a 'yes,' or was that a snatch of an aria from one of Commander Worf's opera recordings?"  
  
Julian slowly raised his head. His eyes looked dark and dull and lightless, rather like obsidian itself, Garak thought carelessly.  
  
"Yes," he said in a flat tone. "You have the gist of it. It must be a flaw in the program. Since Nibbles was taken care of in the correct manner, the computer would not think to restore him to the scenario at this juncture. But the computer is not getting the cues it needs to continue the adventure, so it is making up other versions of antagonists, and will continue to do so -"  
  
"- Wait." Garak held up a hand. "I confess I'm a bit confused now. You told me that all the original characters from this scenario had been purged."  
  
"They have been."  
  
"Then the computer should have no memory at all of Colonel Komananov," Garak said with a frown. "Why would it still seek to have conditions fulfilled by a character of which it couldn't possibly have any knowledge?"  
  
Julian looked away. "That's where my shortsightedness comes into play. It's true that Colonel Komananov has been erased from the scenario, but her role hasn't been."  
  
One eyeridge lifted slightly.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, the scenario is still designed so that Agent Bashir must partner with a rival intelligence agency in order to defeat Admiral Seaworthy," said Julian. "In the old scenario, it was the KGB. In this one, it is O.B.S.I.D.I.A.N."  
  
"I see ..." Garak began musingly before his pale eyes snapped open somewhat wider.   
  
Yes. He  _did_  see now.   
  
"So in other words,  _I_  have replaced Colonel Komananov in this charming adventure in  _every_  aspect," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "Meaning that for all intents and purposes, the computer expects you and  _I_  to be -"  
  
"- Yes."  
  
"And we will be stuck in this loop of depressingly conventional adversaries, unless we -"  
  
"-  _Yes_."  
  
"Ah."   
  
That seemed an apt way to sum up the situation. Julian uttered that groan again. Garak was beginning to like it.  
  
"I can't believe I didn't realize sooner! This is ... beyond humiliating." Bashir stood up, wrapping his long arms loosely around his body. "Garak, I can't tell you how sorry I am about this. When Miles gets some time, he can reconfigure this and we'll pick up where we left off."  
  
Garak nodded absently. His mind was going ahead full-click, as he considered the events up to this point - the fights, the near-misses, Nibbles, the comfort of a warm bed, a delectable Human doctor in a dazzling state of undress ...  
  
"Doctor, just how exactly does the program know that you and your companion are ..." He made a discreet motion with his hand. "Is there a certain way that you -"  
  
"Gods, no." Julian looked down quickly. "Er, it registers audial cues."  
  
The Cardassian blinked slowly. "Audial cues?"  
  
"Yes, I thought, well, Komananov was programmed to be the sort who'd be rather, er ...  _vocal_  while - I mean, during - gods, Garak, can we not get into the details of this? I feel enough of an ass already!"  
  
Garak was quite happy to drop  _that_  subject, especially since he'd seen only ever seen the Komananov character with the visage of Major Kira, and he didn't really want to think about how the Bajoran might conduct herself during  _her_  trysts.  
  
"So, the computer picks up on the sounds of pleasure from you and your companion, and it allows the scenario to move forward?"  
  
"More or less." Julian swallowed hard. "It puts the program in a holding pattern, since there's never any way to predict how long ... well, _you_ know. When everything is, er, complete, then it becomes 'morning' and we are in Naples."  
  
"Charming," said Garak dryly, but smiled gently at Julian's shamefaced grimace. "Oh, I mean it, Doctor, it's a fine piece of programming. No wonder you're so fond of it."  
  
"Yes, well, now that you have all the embarrassing details," the doctor said with a scowl, "you understand that we must stop here."  
  
"Oh, on the contrary, I don't understand at all why we have to end our mission here."  
  
"Good, then, let's -"

Julian's eyes bulged as Garak's words registered.

"What are you – you're not suggesting -"  
  
"I am, indeed, suggesting that we continue as we mean to go on, and as the computer expects." said Garak quietly.   
  
The doctor staggered a little. "You ... but that's impossible! I mean, you can't actually -"  
  
"It will be a relatively simple task to fulfill the program's parameters," said Garak with a shrug. "I trust you can make your voice carry?"  
  
Julian simply stared at him for a moment. "Garak, just what are you planning?"  
  
"Pretense, of course! Subterfuge. We are spies, are we not?" the Cardassian beamed. "If the program is designed to pick up the sounds of passionate, uninhibited sexual activity, then that's easy enough to manufacture. Let me move some of these pillows -"  
  
"Garak, have you lost your  _mind_? You want us to - to  _pretend_  as if we're making love?"  
  
"Why not, Doctor? If you are capable of assuming the role of secret agent, why not this?"  
  
"Why  _not_?" There were hot lights in those eyes now. "Garak, I just can't  _act_  as if I'm - I'm doing  _that_!"  
  
"Doctor, I've had occasion to read some Earth literature in which it was indicated that Terrans were quite adept at feigning ecstasy - especially Human females."  
  
"Well, none of  _my_  partners have ever had to feign anything!"  
  
"Of course not, Doctor. No doubt you're very capable in those matters," said Garak soothingly, noting that Julian was beginning to bristle like an Akamarian slothcat. "But let's leave that aside for a moment. The computer will not allow us to continue in our journey unless it is satisfied that you are sating your carnal desires -"  
  
"You make it sound so  _clinical_." Julian ran an agitated hand over his hair. "There's a lot more to it than that - at least for me, there is. And that's not the only difficulty."  
  
Garak almost smiled. The doctor was now coloring a most delightful shade of russet.  
  
"Oh? And just what other  _difficulties_  do you foresee?"  
  
"You'll have to ... ah, well, you know as my 'partner,'" said Julian, nervously wetting his lips, "you'll need to act as if  _I'm_  satisfying _you_."  
  
"You believe that will be a ... difficulty?"  
  
"I can't imagine how it wouldn't be, Garak. I'd think that you'd find it rather offensive. Or if not, just completely ludicrous to manufacture those sorts of emotions for, well ..."  
  
"A friend?" asked Garak softly.   
  
Julian held his gaze for several long moments.

"Er, well yes, that, but also for a - a Human."

Garak just managed to keep from roaring with laughter. If only his lovely little Starfleeter knew how little trouble  _that_  would be! The Cardassian grinned inwardly. He loved seeing that lovely flush darken the already beautiful skin, and he could not think of when he would have a chance to see Julian in such a state of undress. He thought of the warmth of Julian's body so close to his, and felt a keen annoyance at its absence. The program was suspended, so he did not feel cold, per se, but it still weighed on him as a loss. He knew that to try to force Julian into continuing would be a disaster, but he was not prepared to let the doctor off the hook so easily.   
  
"You're very likely correct, Doctor. I was being foolish, of course," Garak said with a soft, considering sigh. "It would likely never work. Not because of your species, however, but because, well, on its face, it is a rather daunting task. Neither of us, perhaps, would be able to pull off such a feat as to pretend that we are enjoying  _each other_."  
  
"Er, well ..." Garak saw the younger man swallow hard. "It would just be ... odd ... to ... pretend."  
  
Garak's eyeridges nudged upward. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it seemed Julian had laid particular emphasis on the word  _pretend_.  
  
"Indeed. And how would you be able to look at me at our lunches if I were to throw myself on this bed and moan for you at the top of my voice?"  
  
"I - I - I -"

The dark-red wash of color was back, along with an intriguing tremble that was assaulting the doctor’s limbs.

"Yes, that would be somewhat -"

"- Begging you to stop teasing me, but urging you on in the same breath?"   
  
Garak's deepened his voice almost imperceptibly, but its impact was immediate. Julian's mouth dropped open.   
  
"Exhorting how delicious your skin felt against mine, calling for you to stroke my back ridges, oh,  _just_  so -"  
  
"Garak - it - you - I mean -"

Julian reached out to steady himself and grasped nothing but air, nearly pitching onto the bed itself. Not very smooth for Julian Bashir, Secret Agent, Garak had to admit, but he acted as if he'd noticed nothing amiss.  
  
"Calling for your lips to taste mine." Garak made his voice as weightless and smooth as Sarpedian satin. "Groaning my delight at the sweep of your hands across my neck ridges -"   
  
He saw the doctor's eyes dart to the patterned cords of flesh. There was a pronounced trembling in Bashir's hands now, too.  
  
"- And how unearthly silly would I sound if I were to shriek as if you'd pressed yourself firmly against me and began running your tongue around those scales right at the base of my ears?" He lightly traced a finger down said scales. "These, here. They are  _extremely_ sensitive."

A soft moan sharpened his words and Garak's eyes shuttered slightly at the image, but not so much that he couldn't see the sweat popping along Bashir's brow or the soft whuffling noises he was trying unsuccessfully to stifle.   
  
"Or how ridiculous would it appear if I bellowed in ecstasy, feeling your hands drift to my ..."  
  
Julian swayed on his feet, his own eyelids flickering. Another low growl bubbled from his lips before he was able to stop it.

"To - to your ..."

"Yes. Utterly ridiculous." Garak's voice suddenly reverted to its normal cadence, and he straightened, smiling brightly. "You're quite right, Doctor."

 Julian snapped to attention, eyes enormous, as if he'd been doused with a particularly cold pail of water. 

"Wha ...?"

"One can't just  _pretend_  such things. Forgive me for having even suggested it. How silly of me."

The doctor's eyes had the hazy, unfocused stare of someone who had been out in the sun too long.

"I ... yes. I mean, no ... it's not silly. I mean -  _you're_  not -"

"I think, under the circumstances, your initial suggestion is the correct one," Garak continued on with a shallow smile. "We should shelve this adventure until the chief can tailor it to your specifications."  
  
"Yes ..." Julian looked dimly around. Garak saw him attempt a discreet pull at his pajama bottoms. "I suppose that would be best."  
  
"Computer, end program."

Garak stretched delicately and pulled again at the irritating garment he wore.

"Thank you for a delightful afternoon, Doctor, and I do look forward to resuming this mission."

"Wait, where are you going? You're not going to open your shop this late in the day are you?"  
  
"No, it would hardly be worth the trouble," sighed Garak. "But I do have some errands to run, some projects to see to. Perhaps I'll even have the chance start in on that Terran work of fantasy you've been insisting that I read."  
  
"Work of ... you can't mean  _The Illiad_? Garak, it's one of the great works of ancient Earth civilization!"  
  
The Cardassian shrugged.  
  
"In my preliminary research about this particular work, I've found there is so much talk about gods and goddesses, soldiers hiding in wooden statues of Earth animals and apparently invincible fighters dying after sustaining slight wounds to their feet that I assumed that this was one of those Terran fairytales designed to impart some obscure moral platitude to young children." He blinked at the doctor. "You'll forgive my supposition, I'm sure."  
  
Julian's laughter was one of resigned amusement. "I suppose I will – but on one condition."  
  
"Oh?" This promised to be interesting.  
  
The doctor looked suddenly pensive. "I really  _do_  feel badly about how today turned out. It wasn't at all what I had planned. Let me make it up to you, at least in part. Perhaps dinner tonight?"  
  
Garak's clear blue eyes sparkled. "Certainly! What did you have in mind? Tapas in Barcelona? Socca in Monte Carlo? Rosti in St. Moritz?"  
  
"Er, I was thinking more along the lines of hasperat and red leaf tea ... in my quarters." Julian smiled shyly. "Maybe not as an exciting an option as those you named, but at least we can be assured of  _complete_  privacy."  
  
Garak fought the satisfied grin that threatened to stretch his lips to their breaking point.   
  
"Of course," he said easily. "I hardly would like to have the interruptions of the type we've already experienced this afternoon."  
  
"Or of any other sort," said Julian softly, the words thick with innuendo, and, Garak thought he could discern just a hint of promise there, too. "Would 2100 be all right?"  
  
"Perfect." Garak made a short bow. "Will you be in the Infirmary in the interim?"  
  
"No, I'll be in my quarters. Resting  _my_  voice."   
  
Julian's smile was almost predatory and he breezed out of the holosuite with a rather jaunty step for a person who was barefoot and barely clothed.   
  
Garak stared after him, mouth slack. "Yes. I most  _decidedly_  belonged to the wrong intelligence agency," he murmured, taking a moment to collect himself before taking his leave.  
  
end 


End file.
